Never Again
by verbal acuity
Summary: SanaKiri, implied YukiKiri, hinted YukiFuji, hinted YanaKiri - Couldn't risk losing a teammate to damned pavement. It'd be a feat they'd never live down - oneshot.


**Never. Again.**  
by Collapse Overture  
Disclaimer: I'VE COMMANDEERED KONOMI-SENSEI'S PLAYGROUND. BAHAHAHA. -maniacal laughter ensues.-  
Pairings: SanaKiri, implied YukiKiri, hinted YukiFuji, hinted YanaKiri.  
A/N: Dear Lord. This is the first over-700-words story for PoT I've written in a while. I was like, 'there's so not enough SanaKiri or whatever you can call this, so I must write!' . . . and write I did. XD It's a bit lame. Sorry. -facepalm.- I'm tired and messed up right now due to . . . something, so don't kill me! Here goes!

* * *

Yukimura set them up. He did all he could - with a smile, nonetheless - and he won. He pushed them as close together as he could; pushed them as far as they would go until one of them snapped. And snap they did. The two were literally stuck with each other, their sadistic captain watching in utter amusement as they struggled to not kill each other. None of them got out unscathed; except Yukimura Seiichi. He was quite proud of himself, in fact. He defeated, as usual, his windy-earthy-fiery-shadowy-crushingly-flashy fukubuchou, as well as his devilish little kouhai.

Kirihara Akaya lay in the fetal position in the corner of the room, shaking as if frightened, which, he _was_ for all intents and purposes. His beloved captain, the one he admired, as well as wanted to defeat (especially moreso now), had _somehow_ gotten Sanada Genichirou - the stone fukubuchou straight out of Hell, as little Akaya called him - to kiss the second year. The ebony-haired boy could tell that Sanada didn't want to do it, but neither of them had a choice (Kirihara at least had some decency to try to pull away). And, once the kiss was ended, the smaller boy collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. "Never again, 'Mura-buchou. Never again," he had said through every breathy gasp he took.

Sanada, the usually cold, stoic, literal pain-in-the-ass, sat all the way across the room, glaring daggers - and whatever other sort of death weapon he could conjure up in his mind - at his unusually annoyingly quiet kouhai. The boy, to give at least _some_ decency, could have at least been nice about his 'break far away for air! and pretend you're dying on the floor so 'Mura-buchou will feel bad!' action. Really, Sanada - if he wasn't disgusted, as well - was quite offended by his brat of a kouhai's reaction. He wasn't that foul . . . was he?

He gave it a few more minutes, in hopes of the younger boy waking from his catatonic state and screaming, 'why the hell did you do that, fukubuchou!' before ranting and raving about how gross that was, and how he needs to wash out his mouth and brush his teeth more than thirty times just to make that nasty taste go away and -

But the complaint never came . . . and Kirihara just lay there, quiet as can be. Sanada could barely make out the muttered words of 'Yanagi-senpai, they're so cruel to me . . .' followed by a few sobs of betrayal before the capped boy stood, finally fed up with the way the younger regular was acting. "Akaya, TARUNDORU." His voice, as usual, was cold, stiff, and demanding. "Get up, and stop your -" He froze when he heard another choked sob. Was it really that bad? From the other end of the room, in the shadowy, seemingly empty corner, he heard a soft snicker, and knew _exactly_ who it was. "Seiichi . . ."

The aforementioned boy crept from the corner, heartwarming, sadistic smile placed perfectly on his face. Sanada could tell that Yukimura was smirking, just by looking in his eyes. His eyes never lied.

"Yes, Genichirou?" he asked innocently, one arm draped softly over his chest, while his other rested on it, his hand holding his chin up as he considered the look the fukubuchou was giving him. "You know, that's not a very nice way to treat your captain, _Sanada_," He stated in an icy cold voice, smirk returning to his perfect features. He loved toying with his teammates; it was exactly why he made such a great captain. The sadistic level in his mind and features could be overwhelming, at times.

Sanada sighed. "It's not right to do this to Kirihara. His mind can't -"

"'It's our job to disillusion our young ones', ne, Sanada?" Yukimura quoted the Trickster, smirk never fading. That shut the capped boy up rather quickly, he noted. This would have been even better if Yanagi was around. He'd have a data feast for his notebook and brainspan. He snickered at the thought. Yanagi might have had some form of pity for his little kouhai and given him lemonade for this one (the poor kid endured a kiss from his violent bitch-slapping fukubuchou - though it would have been worse had Yukimura made _Akaya_ kiss _Sanada_. The little one would have died a horrid death). "I thought you'd understand the way our minds work, here at Rikkai Dai. Masaharu does." His smile this time was sweet - too sweet, Sanada added - and it somewhat worried him.

Sanada himself didn't know why he felt the need to defend Kirihara. Usually he would jump the gun to be the one to hurt or injure him . . . but not this time. It was as if he switched roles with Yukimura (he was so used to seeing his captain hold Akaya in his arms as the smaller boy nursed the bruise on his cheek from his fukubuchou's searing handprint). "Fine. But after this," he started, and looked over at the corner that Kirihara was in, or rather, the corner that he _thought_ that Kirihara was in. Nothing. The corner was empty. ". . . Where's Akaya?" He watched his captain cease all movement as he asked the question. How was the little brat that quiet?

"Genichirou . . ." he muttered, watching as Sanada's eye twitched, very frequently, at that. Where was Jackal when you needed him? "I think we've lost our dear Akaya." He pressed his hands together, as if he was praying for the second year's lost soul . . . or something like that. The other quickly shook his head, grabbed Yukimura's arm, and dragged him out of the room.

"Seiichi, we can't stand around. Kirihara's probably doing something stupid."

With that, they rushed - or rather, Sanada rushed, Yukimura didn't really care; he was amused beyond belief - to find their distraught kouhai. But, unfortunately, they had _no luck_ whatsoever. They looked everywhere. Well, everywhere except the roof.

The roof.

"That damn idiot owes me," Sanada grumbled and ran up the stairs towards the roof, Yukimura in tow, snickering all the while. He was glad to have done this to the two of them. It brought great amusement - partly because of the fact that he was torturing the two of them, as well as being able to see Sanada actually _care_ about little Akaya - and disturbing pleasure. There were reasons why he got along so well with Fuji Syusuke . . .

They made it to the roof unscathed, with Sanada glaring darkly, and Yukimura smiling amusedly at what they saw. The sight was - for lack of a better term - utterly rediculous. Kirihara, silently sipping from a straw (the two leaders of Rikkai Dai could only guess was lemonade), sat in Yanagi's lap, finally calmed down from the trauma of not even twenty minutes ago. Yanagi, from what they could tell, had his arm draped over the smaller boy's shoulders, a soft look upon his face. That was definitely the first time that Yanagi was this nice to their kouhai.

"Renji." Yukimura smiled, taking a step to the third of Rikkai's demons and their devilish kouhai. "I see you've recovered our lost child," he stated, reaching his hand towards the emerald-eyed boy, as if he was only a baby. Kirihara only remained in his 'trustworthy' senpai's arms, and Yanagi turned to look at his captain.

"Yes. I've found Akaya. It made for good data watching him try to hurl himself from the building, but I decided we needed him to live, so I stopped him," he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, giving a slight shrug, just in time stopping himself from muttering a quiet 'Ii data'. Sanada shook his head and turned to leave, while his captain stood there, still smirking that sadist smirk of his. They both decided it was about time to leave the two alone, so they walked right back through the door they came, and back down the stairs. Yukimura made a point to try to have this done more often (something about feeling like a matchmaker), and Sanada made his point to _never _do this again. Couldn't risk losing a teammate to damned pavement. It'd be a feat they'd never live down. Next time, he'd be more prepared to watch out for Yukimura Seiichi's sadistic tendencies. Never turn your back to someone that hangs around Fuji Syusuke often.

* * *

  
**Reviews are lovely . . . and welcomed.**


End file.
